Why Just Girls? : A Little Brother BioShock FanFiction
by Scrivener Pen Name
Summary: Hello! This is my first BioShock fan fiction. It is the alternate universe in which Little Brothers gathered ADAM with Little Sisters in the fallen city of Rapture. Enjoy! Beware of Spoilers. I do not own anything in the BioShock universe. Rated M for profanity, violence, and gore. I also suggest that you follow if you liked it, as I will churn out more chapters. AU. BioShock.
1. Introduction

**Why Just Girls?**

" _I am Andrew Ryan, and I am here to ask you a question._

 _Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow?_

' _No,' says the man in Washington. 'It belongs to the poor.'_

' _No,' says the man in the Vatican. 'It belongs to God.'_

' _No,' says the man in Moscow. 'It belongs to everyone.'_

 **I rejected those answers.**

 _Instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible._

 _I chose…_

 _ **RAPTURE.**_

 _The city where the artist would not fear the censor._

 _Where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality._

 _Where the great would not be constrained by the small._

 _And, with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can be your city as well._

 **-** Andrew Ryan

Ah, _Rapture._ The refuge of the great people who were chewed up and spat out by the world, by the Parasites. The artist, rejected for their material being labeled as 'obscene'. The scientist, made a social pariah because of their 'morally dubious' experiments. The billionaire industrialist, ruined by the worker's unions for their 'unethical' employment. All these people and more flocked to Rapture. For years, the Objectivist utopia would flourish. Business boomed. Art was celebrated and valued. There were numerous advancements and discoveries in the realm of science as well. And among them: ADAM.

The glorious wonder drug that could heal the wounded, and empower the healthy. Line after line of new Plasmids were released. Telekinesis to amuse your friends or get something when you don't feel like getting up, Incinerate for your enemies, or to get the stove going. Winter Blast for a hot-head. Security Bullseye if you wanted something you couldn't afford. All of these became readily available to Rapture's citizenry. For years, ADAM sat in the crown of Rapture as its biggest and brightest jewel. Yet, this shining jewel would prove Rapture's undoing.

From 1958 onward, Rapture steadily declined. And by '59, Rapture had officially hit rock bottom. Corpses sat in pools of blood and urine, littering the city. Buildings were in leaky shambles, in awful disrepair from the Civil War ignited by the genetic arms race between the loyalists of Andrew Ryan and Frank Fontaine's rebel bandits. Even those who wished to remain neutral in the war were forced to ruin themselves with ADAM only to survive.

All those who remained in Rapture during the late 1950's were trapped in the city; penned up in a hellhole of chaos and death. Regardless, many people were indoctrinated by Ryan's anti-surface propaganda in addition to the shutting down of means of transport that might bare Rapture's denizens away. Those lucky 70 were fortunate enough to look at the political instability and growing ADAM use, and flee. Please forgive my course language in the next sentence. As you may know, everything went to absolute _shit_ in Rapture after 1958. But, for now, let's focus on the story that _I_ have created with these great tools provided me by the great people who created the BioShock story.

"Plasmids changed everything. They destroyed our bodies, our minds; we couldn't handle it. Best friends butchering each other,

 **babies strangled in cribs…**

 **The whole city went to Hell."**

-Frank Fontaine

In Rapture, little girls were always idolized. There was little more than hatred for little boys. The working class saw sons only as competition. As a result, baby boys would be abandoned at young ages, mostly at infancy or just after being born. **They** were the ones strangled in cribs.

I think Atlas said it best. Little Sisters were worth their weight in gold. However, some families wished to give their children a 'better future' without abandoning or killing them. "How?" they would ask. Fontaine would be the one to answer. He answered with his orphanages. "Fontaine's Little Wonders Educational Facility". Poor families who wanted to keep their boys because they saw them as a way to keep the family alive with a job would receive sums of money for their children. The working class was happy to give them up. In the mid 1950's, ADAM was the best thing since sliced bread, and the business sector was all exceedingly eager to mass-produce it.

Children, especially little girls, proved to be excellent hosts for the ADAM slugs. When Andrew Ryan defeated Frank Fontaine and drove him into hiding, Fontaine's businesses were nationalized by the Rapture Council. The orphanages ran by Fontaine were shut down, and orphaned children littered the Rapture. Brigid Tenenbaum would often rescue the abandoned little boys, whenever she could find them. In the streets, hiding out in alleys, in trash cans.

She would bring them with her when she went underground; _ihre kleinen jungen_. Though the Little Boys could produce an adequate amount of ADAM, they were not chosen as primary gatherers for ADAM by Ryan when he took over the orphanages with Ryan Industries. Ryan did, however believe Tenenbaum when she said that the girls were incapable of producing EVE. The two would decide to use the little boys as EVE factories, as well as for ADAM. The Little Brothers and Sisters would, of course, need protectors. Common sense dictated that to Tenenbaum and Ryan. Non-voluntary candidates for the Protector Program would be pulled from the streets and from among criminals.

Convicts would be offered better food and upgraded lodging within the penal system, only being able to enjoy these fine privileges for a few weeks before being bound, sedated, and carted off to Failsafe Armored Escorts. Subjects for protectors and gatherers would be kidnapped from their cities and homes on the surface by crooked smugglers, which was just another market by which Fontaine turned a profit. Men put out of work with the completion of Rapture's construction or those looking to make a new start for themselves willingly entered the program through the use of well-placed propaganda.

By 1955, creation of Gatherers and Protectors was set in full motion.

The Civil War had barely begun, it had touched very little of the city.

Few little girls and boys were put on the street with their ghoulish fathers to suck the ADAM from corpses at that time. The majority of the Gatherers were kept in the safety of the training facilities for further conditioning.

In the meantime, many of their Protectors would go about on maintenance and repair work for Rapture. Julie Langford commissioned the installation of Gatherer vents in Arcadia, and welcomed the grotesque pairs with open arms. Why did she do this? The Saturnine. Corpses lying around in the forest floor of Arcadia would be awful for business. The cult members were constantly killing one another for the purpose of religious sacrifice, grudges, or simply plasmid-induced madness.

 _ **June 3, 1956; Arcadia. (Audio Diary)**_

 _ **Speaker: Julie Langford**_

" _My new acquaintance Dr. Brigid Tenenbaum offered a suggestion to me yesterday. She said that I could fix two of my problems: The Saturnine, and their corpses. Apparently, she put sea slugs into the stomachs of a bunch of children, and they made more ADAM at dectuple capacity! Not only this, but they can recycle - blood - into usable ADAM. The only downside is that they require protection. Fortunately, Tenenbaum considered that as well. I've ordered two pairs of them from Tenenbaum. Those urchins will get me some ADAM, and, if I'm lucky, their ghoulish fathers will bump off some of those wretched pagans while they're at it._

 _ **June 5, 1956; Arcadia**_

Johnny skipped joyfully through a pair of lush, flowery trees. "Come along, Daddy. We'll miss the Angels dancing!" Johnny called in his British accent to his Bouncer Big Daddy. You see, Johnny was a Little Brother. His skin was a sickly grey-green colour, and his eyes glowed bright yellow. Johnny wore a baby blue polo shirt, with a pair of navy-shaded short pinafore shorts. His 'Father' groaned in response, lumbering up to him. The Bouncer offered his flat and gargantuan palm, offering his charge a ride on his back.

The Gatherer accepted, grinning widely as he ran back and sat in the Bouncer's hand. Johnny was lifted up and onto the Bouncer's back, and held on tightly as the Bouncer continued on with remarkable speed for a Big Daddy. Visitors and patrons of Arcadia backed away from the ghoulish pair as they passed, not wishing to incur the wrath of the Protector's drill, or the Gatherer's needle. Speaking of which, the two arrived at the corpse detected by Johnny. The Big Daddy moaned, and set his charge gently on the ground. "Thank you, Daddy."

The boy knelt before the corpse. He stuck the needle of his harvester in the corpse's neck, and pulled the trigger. ADAM-infused blood filled the baby bottle attached to the harvester quickly, prompting Johnny to lift the harvester above his head. "Look, Daddy! ADAM!" Johnny squealed joyfully. The Bouncer patted his charge on the head, moaning softly as the Gatherer stood. Johnny drank all of the ADAM quickly, as though it were the most delicious thing in the world.

To him, it was. The mental conditioning of all Gatherers not only gave them rose-colored glasses through which to see Rapture, but also made them to hallucinate propagandistic posters which reminded them of how to properly execute their job.

A perfect cycle of slavery had been set in motion. The protectors and gatherers were but gears or cogs; pawns in the hands of Rapture's many powerful pieces. Here ends Chapter One.

So, what did you guys think? A lot of work went into this. I'm working on more stories at the moment.

Like, Follow, and Fave if you enjoyed!


	2. Part the First

_**On my walk today I had my first encounter with a pair of them…**_

 _ **He,**_

 _ **a lumbering palooka in a foul-smelling diving suit, and**_

 _ **She,**_

 _ **an unwashed moppet in a filthy pink smock.**_

 _ **Her pallor was off, green and morbid, and there was a rather unpleasant aspect to her demeanor, as if she were in an altogether different place than the rest of us...**_

 _ **I understand the need for such creatures, I just wish they could make them more presentable.**_

-Andrew Ryan

 _ **August 4th, 1958; Little Wonders Educational Facility (Autopsy):**_

Two surgeons congratulated each other on their success on that August morning, setting down their bloody tools as a nurse finished suturing their incision into the subject's stomach. The form of an average-height 12-year-old boy stirred on the operating table. A long, diagonal line lay across his stomach. His eyes fluttered open as the anesthetic wore off.

"Gatherer 77, are you fully awake? How do you feel?"

The boy blinked as a small light was shone in his face. The other surgeon placed a gloved hand on the shoulder of the one who spoke.

"He has a name, Gordon. What is your name, child?" The surgeon called Suchong said.

"M-my name is Steven." The child answered, quickly tending to his disheveled hair. His skin began to turn a greenish-gray hue, and his eyes glowed a sickly yellow. "Good sir, where am I? I wish to return to my home . . ."

Suchong chuckled, and quickly injected Steven's arm with a sleeping agent; causing him to fall unconscious. "Pretty fancy, ain't he?" Suchong joked. "Yeah," Gordon replied flippantly. "Let's get him to Mental Conditioning. We can't have any memories or thoughts of 'Mum' or 'Home'." Suchong nodded, and called for a stretcher.

( _ **Flashback)**_

 _ **August 3rd, 1958; Andalusian Arms Apts.:**_

A knock prompted Mrs. Prince to peek through the door's peephole. "Yes? Who is it?" Mrs. Prince asked. "Erm, yeh, we're from Ryan Industries. Mr. Ryan has a message for you. May we come in?" One of two men inquired; his accent thick and Irish. The woman opened the door slowly and warily, a kitchen knife on her other hand should something go wrong.

The two men smirked, and strode inside. "May we sit?" The other asked, his accent Southern United States and relatively light. "Of course. Care for a cup of tea?" Mrs. Prince inquired in her English accent. A saucer of buttered biscuits and an issue of the Rapture Tribune were laid out on the coffee table. The Irishman accepted graciously, taking a sip of the warm beverage as the hostess poured it into his cup.

Steven sat quietly in his room, practicing his penmanship and mathematics. He had excellent marks in school. He had a future. Steven's toil was interrupted by the gentle call of his mother. The child set his papers into a drawer, and set his pen down from his left hand.

His entrance into the room prompted both of the men to smile broadly.

"You see, Madam, the job market in Rapture's a bit rough at the moment, and Mr. Ryan has work for your boy. How are his grades, if you don't mind my prying?" The Southern gentleman asked, gesturing towards the child in her lap. "He has perfect marks in every subject. What job is it that you speak of?"

"He can work as an ADAM gatherer. He'll be paid very handsomely." The Irishman said. "ADAM Gatherer . . . Those peaked-looking children who walk about with those ghastly, hulking tanks and take blood from corpses?" The two men's faces turned a bit uneasy. "That is one way to put it, but, yes. He will be well-protected during his . . . shifts. He will also be given education and care at the our Educational Facility."

Mrs. Prince shook her head; a frown firmly plastered on her face. "No. I won't have it." Dissatisfied, the Irishman looked at Steven. "What say _you_ , child? What is it that _you_ want?" Steven narrowed his eyes, and placed his fist on his chin. "I shall remain with my mother. Please give Mr. Ryan my thanks and also my regards." Slightly irked, the Southern gentleman pulled out his revolver. "OK, Lady, show's over. Give us the kid, or I'll blow ya away." Mrs. Prince's face was filled with rage as she plunged her kitchen knife into the man's gut before he could fire a single shot.

The other dove from the sofa upon which he sat, and tossed Steven over his shoulder. The Southern gentleman, or rather, cad, began a staggering run. "My child!" Mrs. Prince cried, her son knocked over the head and carried through their doorway. As the one man who remained attempted to aim for her head, she called a pitcher of water to her hand with the Telekinesis plasmid, dumped it over him, and finished him off with a fistful of lightning.

Fighting back hot tears, the woman called the Papadopoulos Police Department, to report the kidnapping of her son, and a request for the removal of a corpse from her property.

( _ **End of Flashback)**_

 _ **August 6th, 1958; Little Wonders Educational Facility: (Steven's POV.)**_

 _I was brought into a room, and I frantically attempted to straighten my wrinkled clothes before the important-looking man entered. He wasn't what I expected. His gaze was soft; his eyes were kind. "Hello, child." He greeted my somewhat quietly. He invited me to sit, at which point I pulled up the wooden swivel chair that sat near his desk._

 _He gave me something he called an Audio-Diary, and told me that I could use it to record my inmost thoughts. He asked me a few questions about my past. Oddly, he had to resist a smile when I told him that I could barely remember anything that had happened to me before coming to the facility. He then took out a clipboard, and scribbled some short notes on it._

 _I believe he said that his name was Gilbert Alexander . . ._

 _After leaving the good Doctor's office, I was brought to a bright, blue-tiled room. There were a pair of screens, and what seemed to be a security camera. It seemed vaguely familiar to me. Curiosity got the better of me, and I pressed both buttons at once. The left side of me received a mild yet irritating electric shock, and a bag of potato chips dropped from beneath the monitor depicting what looked like one of those suit-clad men on the streets._

 _ **You think that's a child down there? Don't be fooled.**_

 _ **She's a Little Sister now.**_

 _ **Somebody went and turned a sweet baby girl into a monster. Whatever you thought about right and wrong on the surface, well, that don't count for much down in Rapture.**_

 _ **Those Little Sisters, they carry ADAM – the genetic material that keeps the wheels of Rapture turning. Everybody wants it; everybody needs it.**_

\- Atlas

 _ **August 6th, 1958; Proving Grounds: (Roland Wallace POV.)**_

 _I was marched into a brightly-lit laboratory by a pair of scientists. Thier lab coats were stained with blood and dirty sea water; I heard them talk about how their chemical lab had been broken into by a small group of ADAM-hungry splicers. At their direction, I laid down on a metal table. I moaned, as if to ask them what would happen. One of the scientists stepped up to a golden Gatherer vent, and knocked gently on it. Something about it made it seem strangely familiar . . ._

 _A small child dressed in a baby-blue polo shirt and dark blue shorts which hung just above his knees. The scientist lovingly set the child down, and tapped his right wrist with his left index finger twice. The other scientist raised his eyebrows, and injected me with a syringe filled with an odd green liquid. I cringed and groaned loudly - my vision grew dark._

 _Before passing into unconsciousness, I glimpsed the boy being strapped to a small red table, and injected with a syringe filled with blue fluid._

 _(_ _ **FLASHBACK)**_

 _ **My skin erupted into pinkish-red welts, and my reflection in the mirrored ceiling showed that my face resembled a tomato in colour. Pain and anger radiated through my body. I screamed; rage filling me up from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. I fixed my gaze on Dr. Suchong. I blamed**_ **him** _for doing this to me. I moved to attack him, yet, I was_ _ **hit over the head with some blunt object. "What shall we do with 'Im, Doc?" An orderly asked, kneeling down and tying my hands a behind my back. I simply lay there, motionless; listening intently to find out what they would do with me. After clearing his throat, Suchong replied: "We shall put him to good use. His mind has been damaged by Lot 44; tell Doctor Alexander that we have a test subject for him.**_

 _ **(END OF FLASHBACK)**_

 _ **I re-woke with a start; pained and fatigued. I attempted to move, yet could barely budge under the weight of my own suit. The child the scientists had brought in earlier came and knelt on my chest, and injected me with a long needle. My suit again became weightless.**_

 _ **I sat up on the table, and pressed a button on the inside of my glove, and my porthole shone green. I was filled with joy as I looked at the boy, who began to smile at me. We embraced without thinking. I was his protection, yet he was my strength. He was my hope. I had found that we were one another's very**_ **life.**

So ends Chapter 2. Please fave and follow if you enjoyed the story. Message me if you wish for me to write more.


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